


How (Not) To Flat-Share With Your Demon

by ThePraxianWeasleyGeek



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Cop!Arcee, Demon!AU, F/M, Mention of (canon) minor character death, Non-explicit smut/mentions of smut, Summoner!AU, Urban Fantasy, human!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5748025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/pseuds/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcee just wanted some help catching Tailgate's killer. She summoned a demon to provide said help, but given that the demon was Starscream things haven't exactly gone according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How (Not) To Flat-Share With Your Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis_Crimson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Crimson/gifts).



> Slightly late birthday fic for Clara!

It had become standard, by now, for Arcee to walk into the kitchen for breakfast and find a demon sitting on top of the fridge.

He didn't particularly _enjoy_ it up there - she'd caught him grimacing and stretching out cramps when he thought her back was turned - but his supernatural physiology at least allowed him to fit. And because the fridge was what she made a beeline for every morning, to dig out the milk so she could make a cup of coffee, it was therefore where Starscream situated himself to ensure that her sleep-fogged brain acknowledged him.

Starscream was an attention whore. There were no two ways about it, and he seemed to revel in knowing that she knew that he knew; it made bugging her for said attention all the more entertaining.

This morning, his entertainment came in the form of a horrified yelp when she opened the fridge.

"There'sadeadmouseintherewhatthe _fuck_."

"You did mention having a rodent problem."

"And from that, you got 'Starscream, would you hunt down the vermin and leave their carcasses in my _fucking kitchen_ '. _Why._ " Arcee groaned in disgust and slammed the door with more force than strictly necessary, almost toppling the demon perched above her.

"I wouldn't put it quite that way," Starscream replied - she could hear the smarmy grin in his voice even without looking up. "But you _did_ leave it open to interpretation. Haven't you learned yet about keeping contracts specific?"

"That wasn't. A fucking. Contract."

"You left me free to interpret it as such. You're getting sloppy, Arcee, I must say."

"Maybe that's what happens when the useless demon I summoned hangs around for way too long, 'cause he can't do his job properly."

The demon snarled at that and unfolded himself from his perch, slinking down the side of the fridge like a billow of smoke. He didn't have to be entirely solid, if he didn't feel like it.

Though Arcee knew firsthand there were times when parts of him really _did_ feel like it.

That was strike two on the 'how not to run a deal with a demon' chart. First mistake: don't let them worm their way out of the main clause. Starscream kept doing that, and Arcee wasn't great at stopping him - over his stupidly long existence, he'd developed a knack for twisting his summoners' words around to satisfy both himself and the rules he was governed by. Small complaints became commands, became tasks, became distractions. Which gave the demon more and more free hours to spend as he wished, wreaking havoc that Arcee didn't want to think about while she was down at the station.

Her second mistake had been sleeping with him.

Arcee still couldn't iron out her reasons for doing that - it'd been a long day, she'd found herself involved in a chase that had culminated in Chromia nearly getting shot by the perp; and what with the mountains of paperwork that ensued she'd arrived home just wanting to crash on the couch until about noon the next day.

Of course, she had reckoned without the summoned-help-turned-poltergeist who'd been waiting for her, occupying the very couch that she sought. Admittedly he'd only been sat on the arm - but it was _her_ couch, and he hadn't asked, and that was her justification for throwing a cushion at him.

He'd caught it, obviously, without even looking behind him. But in leaning for it he overbalanced, and went sprawling onto the seat of the couch.

The lanky bastard always managed to fill whatever space he occupied with limbs alone. Arcee had given up and sat on him.

Although not quite the crashing into unconsciousness that she had in mind, that ended up being a decent enough arrangement; for a time, at least. Arcee'd stuck on some mindless reality show that she didn't really have to pay attention to, leaned back against the sofa cushions (shunting Starscream further towards the edge as she went), and contrived to ignore the resident demon's indignant bitching. Complaints ranged from her taste in TV - _inane drivel_ \- to her weight, which was increasing by the minute if he was to be believed.

Arcee could deal with all of that, having had him in her apartment so long; by now it was just background noise.

What she found slightly less easy to deal with was his _fidgeting_. It had been tolerable at first; a few wriggles in protest, accompanied by soft snarling... but the longer she sat there, the more uncomfortable they'd both gotten. Starscream's displeasure was evidenced in his practically doing the worm underneath her - she'd taken it for an escape attempt, to avoid being crushed by her gargantuan mass.

At least, until she'd felt a rather distinctive sort of lump poke her in the backs of her thighs.

Everything had gotten a bit weird at that point. There were the standard enquiries - _oh my god is that a hard-on, are you actually turned on right now - does that_ bother _you Arcee? - I'm not the one trying to sneak off and fix things in the bathroom, you tell me_ \- but even after that, she still hadn't stood up to let him slink away with the last of his dignity in tow. Call it a training exercise. He'd growled and cursed and done his best to dislodge her, but the fact that he could've shapeshifted his way out of the problem and didn't told her that he was playing a game of his own, too. He was trying to psych her out - but after the day she'd just had, Arcee wasn't prepared to let him win.

Admittedly, bending her knees up to grind her foot against his crotch had been more to shut him up than anything else. Starscream had literally been whining by that point; it was like having a giant mosquito for a cushion.

It really hadn't been a wise move, though. She'd known it, and somehow she hadn't cared, and somehow else they had ended up roughly horizontal and both trying to roll the other onto their back and keep them there. Not an easy task when you've also got your tongue down the other party's throat, but they'd managed.

It was a contest. Of course they managed.

In the end Arcee won, Starscream sustained a lump on the back of his head where he'd cracked it against a hard bit of sofa arm (promptly miracled away, though that didn't stop Arcee laughing), and both of them found themselves lying nigh-insensate on the couch an hour or so later with the damned reality show reruns still playing, unnoticed.

Arcee had detached herself with a grunt and gone to shower. She tried to forget that the incident had occurred for the rest of that evening - made easier because Starscream had slunk from the flat by the time she returned to the main room. She'd fixed herself dinner and retreated to the bedroom.

And despite berating herself on a loop until she fell asleep later, she had gone on to repeat the experience not two days after it occurred; though at least this time they'd made it to the bed.

(They also managed it three out of the four times it'd occurred after _that_ ).

It wasn't such a bad arrangement, all told, excepting Starscream's being a demon who could use it all against her. But he was doing that with the whole damn situation as it was, and Arcee reasoned she was supposed to get _something_ out of this, being the summoner.

All she'd wanted was some help catching Tailgate's murderer - officially, and understandably, she'd been removed from the case. That didn't mean she could sit idly by.

She did have a new partner on the force now, who Starscream couldn't stand.

She couldn't care less what Starscream thought.

Which, in all honesty, brought her back to the situation at hand: the demon had gone all standoffish again at her last insult, and was waxing long about Cliffjumper's many failings when it came to investigative work - certainly when compared to _him_ , anyway.

"What, did Sherlock fucking Holmes summon you, back in the 1800s?"

Starscream actually took that at face value, and scoffed.

"Sherlock Holmes is mere fiction. Still, you'd think that given my millennia of existence, I'd be more qualified to help you catch the killer than that buffoon."

"Yeah, you'd think - but here you are still bugging me two months later. Feel free to interpret that one as a request, by the way."

Surprisingly, the demon grinned. "You're learning."

"Apparently," Arcee agreed. "So that mouse better be gone by the time I'm back from the station, 'cause there's no way even you could pretend I'm not complaining."

That wiped the smirk off his face.

"I'll choose to take _that_ as complimenting my skills at evasion." He grumbled some more as he veered back towards the bedroom, but Arcee didn't catch what was said. Instead, she called a parting epithet of her own.

"I'm starting to think evasion's all you're good for."

"You had plenty of faith in my other abilities, a few hours ago," Starscream snapped back, before slamming the bedroom door. The frame creaked slightly.

Arcee rolled her eyes and diverted her attention towards the toaster. Much like Starscream's standard morning greeting, this back-and-forth over what passed for breakfast had become pretty much routine by now. As with the Recurring Fridge Incident, it was another way for Starscream to ensure that he was the most important (or at least, the most aggravating, which in his eyes was probably the same) thing in her apartment.

And as with the fridge, she was more than a bit unsettled by how little she minded it.


End file.
